


all that festive cheer

by alekszova



Series: a quiet hum of winter melodies [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Christmas Fluff, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Light Angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Teacher-Student Relationship, can be read as a standalone, referenced and not romanticized, this is a mostly fluffy fic with some heavy angst scenes and backstories
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:00:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28344273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alekszova/pseuds/alekszova
Summary: Gavin was sixteen when he was in a car crash that sent him into a coma for three years. When he woke up, everything was different. His friends had graduated high school, Tina was married, Elijah was off creating his own business, and his parents were divorced. He spent years and years of his life trying to get everything back to normal again, but time had slipped away too fast for him to find any stability from his life before. Now, thirty-six, Gavin hasn't spent Christmas with his family in five years, but he gets invited every year, and he thinks he'd really like his parents to meet Connor.
Relationships: Connor/Gavin Reed
Series: a quiet hum of winter melodies [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2075568
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	1. cozy nights

**Author's Note:**

> i tried to write this fic as best as i could so you didn't need to read part 1 to read this but a general overview of part 1 details:  
> Connor and Niles grew up with extremely strict and conservative parents who instilled that they needed to be the very best. Connor didn't meet their standards and only visited them during Christmas. He brings Gavin along as a fake date one year so he could have a support system and not be so alone, but eventually decided at the end of the trip that the didn't need to ever go back to seek acceptance and love from people that didn't care for him. Chloe is Niles' wife, but Niles died a few years previously, and has kept going to find some connection her husband again.
> 
> (also Connor and Gavin work at Hank's soap shop)

They haven’t been together long enough for this.

That’s the first thought that pops into Gavin’s head when he gets the invitation in the mail. Him and Connor haven’t been together long enough for this. It, technically, hasn’t been a year yet, even if this was around the time when they first got together. Sort of. They moved so slowly at first that, despite the fact they were mutually exclusive, nothing  _ really  _ happened for another month or two. It was a fact of who they both were. Uncomfortable with the basics of holding hands and kissing. Sex wasn’t even a topic that either of them brought up until the summer when Gavin’s apartment’s air conditioner kicked off and he spent a week at Connor’s place, laying on the floor with ice cubes in his mouth and staring at the ceiling.

So it doesn’t feel like they’ve been together long enough for this.

Gavin should shred it. If he leaves it out, Connor will likely find it. He likes tidying Gavin’s apartment in the night when he can’t sleep. He will find it and he will tell Gavin it’s a good idea.  _ Great idea!  _ He can hear it in Connor’s voice, urging him to go see his family this Christmas.

_ It’s been so long, Gav, I really think you should see them. _

Gavin is preparing his argument in his head, in this fake conversation they have going on.

_ You of all people should know what it’s like to want to avoid your family.  _ No. Too mean. Too defensive. Out of line, even. Gavin’s family is nothing like Connor’s. They aren’t conservative or cruel, even if they’ve made missteps in their language towards Gavin’s identity as a gay man. They are overbearing in an effort of kindness, in their comfort, that it is suffocating.

Better to be killed with kindness, though, and Connor knows that. Gavin’s seen the blisters on his feet. He knows when Connor leaves his side in the middle of the night to find something to do with himself. Dancing in the living room, quiet and slow. Gavin doesn’t watch him, but sometimes he peeks out of his door just to know what he’s up to. He’s not sure if he should ever interfere.

So no, Gavin cannot compare his family to Connor’s family. That would be a disservice to the both of them.

_ It’s been a long time for a reason. It’s easier this way. I’m not really welcome in my family.  _ —A lie, sort of. But not entirely. His family never turned their backs on him. That was Gavin’s fault. After what happened when he was a teenager, after everything, he doesn’t blame them for moving on. He doesn’t blame them for having lives. He doesn’t blame them for struggling to reconnect with him, and in their misguidance, asking him a dozen times every hour how he was. It just didn’t work. His friends had filled the place that he left and moved on and never reopened it wide enough for Gavin to squirm his way back in.

It’s the kind of thing that eats him alive. Being forgotten.

_ Well, Connor, I just don’t fucking want to. — _ Another lie. Isn’t that funny?

In truth, Gavin  _ does _ want to go. He misses them. Seeing Connor’s family, seeing the strain he had between his parents, it made him remember all the happy childhood memories. It made him remember itchy sweaters and over-baked cookies and waiting in the closet for Santa and always falling asleep too soon. It reminds him of running around outside the lodge and throwing snowballs and climbing up trees and getting sap stuck on the back of his neck. Christ, it doesn’t even seem like the idea of seeing his family for Christmas even stops at reminding him of how good Christmas used to be. It reminds him of summer vacations and sand between his toes and floating across the backyard pool with water that always looked green. It reminds him of spring and following a trail of half eaten carrots to an Easter basket stuffed with things his parents knew he would love.

Gavin had a good childhood with caring parents and everything crashed down around them. But, it is too soon, he thinks. Connor wanted to move slowly, right? He couldn’t kiss Gavin without a troubled expression for three months. The first time they had sex, he held onto Gavin and told him it was exactly what he wanted but it felt like something was wrong. And Gavin knows that feeling particularly well. It faded for him some time ago, but he remembers being young and being scared of who he is and what society decided to label that sexuality as.

So maybe Connor shouldn’t be introduced to his family after a year, not after the year they’ve had, but—

But he wants Connor to meet his sister and his brother. He wants him to meet his parents. He wants Connor to see his nephew and nieces and he wants to have a happy Christmas with him to make up for the ones Connor lost out on before.

_ Fine,  _ he grumbles,  _ have it your way. _

  
  


“My parents aren’t rich,” Gavin says.

“Excuse me?”

“I didn’t come from an extremely wealthy family,” he repeats. “I just want you to know that.”

“I—Okay?” Connor carefully moves the tray of silicone molds to the other side of the room. Let the soap solidify into tiny little light bulbs to mimic the string of lights on Christmas trees. It’s barely halfway through November and they’re incredibly behind on their work, which Connor likes to blame Gavin for. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I’m going to invite you to come with me to visit them this Christmas.”

“Oh?”

“Oh? That’s all you got to say?”

“Well, I’m surprised, that’s all. You told me you haven’t spent a holiday with them in what was it… twenty years?”

“You calling me old, baby-face?”

Connor smiles, pushing the tray back against the wall, next to the three other ones. “What does this have to do with your parents' wealth? Or lack of?”

“Every year them and my siblings go in on renting a giant fucking lodge in the woods. We take all of our stuff there, spend a few days together. It makes us look rich. We aren’t.”

“Okay, okay. I believe you.”

“Good. Okay,” Gavin draws in a deep breath. “So will you come with me? I won’t be mad if you want to stay, but I think I should go.”

“Can Chloe come?”

“Huh?”

He shrugs, trying to figure out the best way to explain himself. Gavin knows the situation with Chloe better than almost anyone else, but he has to find an excuse acceptable for Gavin to pass along to his family. He doesn’t exactly think it’s right for Gavin’s parents to know that Chloe’s husband is dead, that the only thing she has managed to hold onto since his death was his parents. And they’ve grown a lot closer in the last year since they decided not to return to that place. Enough to know that Chloe doesn’t like to announce the fact she’s a widow anymore than Connor likes to announce that his twin brother is dead. It’s their shared secret.

“I don’t want her to spend Christmas alone.”

“There’s room for her,” Gavin replies. “I’m sure she can tag along. Maybe she’ll befriend my brother.”

“Not your sister?”

“Well…” Gavin shrugs. “Tina is a difficult girl. Elijah is much more tactful in his friendships. He’ll at least be polite on the surface. Even if it would kill me a hundred times over to see them hanging out.”

“Why not Tina?”

“Having a few kids sort of messes up your filter. She doesn’t waste time anymore.”

“Okay. I’ll call Chloe tonight.”

“Good. Okay.” Gavin steps across the room and leans up, placing a kiss against Connor’s cheek. “Thank you.”

  
  


It’s another month before they go. A month of Gavin being completely and utterly tortured by the decision he’s made. His parents were fine with Chloe coming along, and Chloe was ecstatic to go somewhere other than Connor’s parent’s place. Connor, though, spends all of his free time making checklists. He packs two weeks early, unpacks when he finds he wants to wear a sweater that was stuffed towards the bottom of his suitcase, and packs it all back up again.

The day before they leave, Gavin spends an hour in Hank’s office, lingering around, trying to get him to revoke their vacation days but it doesn’t end up working because all Gavin really manages is to annoy Hank enough that he cuts them loose an hour earlier than they’re meant to leave. Gavin spends the night watching Christmas reruns of an adult cartoon show, wondering how he can get out of this. Fake a car crash? Maybe, but it happened to him for real once, and he was lost to the world for three years because of it. Some would still say he’s lost.

“You’re panicking,” Connor says quietly, his hands on Gavin’s shoulders, rubbing the tension out of his muscles. “It’ll be fine. I’ll be there. It can’t be worse than last year, can it?”

Gavin thinks of waking up early to go hunting, of listening to people call him a coward, of finding ways to make him feel disgusting about him and his sexuality in ways he hadn’t thought of before, or had managed to grow comfortable in his solitude to forget that people really thought that way.

“If someone gets murdered it can be.”

“This isn’t a Ruth Ware novel.”

“I was thinking Agatha Christie.”

Connor leans forward and kisses the side of Gavin’s head. “Don’t be annoying.”

“You started it.”

“Did I?” Connor says quietly. “I think you’re the starter of things. Especially annoying things.”

“Fine. I started it. You continue it.”

Connor rests his head against Gavin’s shoulder, his hands moving from his shoulders to wrap around his waist. “Everything is going to be okay, Gav.”

“I know. You’ll be there. No one will get murdered. I’ve got a good gift for you for once. It’ll be okay.”

“Positivity.”

“Mhm.”

  
  


They have to fly across the country. A long flight where Chloe falls asleep on Gavin’s shoulder and Gavin falls asleep on Connor’s. He tries to sleep, but he can’t. His head feels too stuffy, his stomach too unstable. He tries to pay attention to the holiday movie that the plane has put on for its passengers. An old animated claymation thing he remembers catching snippets of when his parents would set him and Niles in front of the television so they’d stay out of the way.

Connor holds onto Gavin’s hand, rubbing his thumb along Gavin’s palm. His hand is so warm, fits so perfectly. He is obsessed with it. He can never let it go. How lucky he was that he found someone who fits into his body just right. The nights they don’t spend together he pulls a pillow close and clings onto it tight, but it’s not the same.

When they get off the plane, they rent a car and drive out from the city. Connor sits in the passenger seat, nursing a hot chocolate from the airport to try and keep the chilly air away.

It takes longer to get to the lodge than expected, snow and traffic slowing them down, but when Gavin parks the car in a small lot surrounded by trees, his face suddenly hardens. Not in anger, but in guilt.

“We have to hike the rest of the way.”

“We have to  _ what?”  _ Chloe asks, piping up from the back seat. She’s been trying to steal little bits of sleep here and there to quell the nausea from altitude.

“Hike,” he says quietly, looking back to Chloe. “It’s not a long way up. You can see the lodge from here. It’s just… annoying.”

“I think you’re lying to us,” Chloe says. “I think it’s a lot longer of a walk up than you’re saying. Otherwise you wouldn’t be making that face.”

“Excuse me? What face?”

Connor leans his head back against the seat. “The guilty look.”

“What guilty look?”

Connor reaches his hand out, tapping him lightly on the nose. “That face. Why didn’t you warn us before?”

“I forgot.”

“You’re lying. You’re a liar.”

“Chloe, back off,” Gavin says, stumbling his way out of the car. “I’ll feed you when we get up. There’s always a fuck ton of food waiting.”

“You think food is going to get you out of this?” Chloe calls to him. The door slams shut before she gets an answer.

Connor cranes his neck to look up the hill above them. Gavin wasn’t lying. The lodge is visible from down here, but that doesn’t mean it’s close. It’s barely visible above the tree line, and then the only give away is the smoke coming up to the sky. The points of the roof are camouflaged by the trees. It’s hardly close.

“Food,” he says quietly. “It’ll make it worth it.”

“I hope.”

  
  


It’s hell. It’s worse than Gavin remembers. The path up is steep and snowy, with a path that they follow that winds up and around, trying to find the flattest places to get up. The snow is smoothed down from sleds and suitcase wheels and boot tracks. There’s already two cars parked in the lot below and it likely hasn’t snowed since their arrival, but there’s not been enough traffic to flatten it so the walk is easy.

Connor takes Gavin’s free hand, holding on as they make their way up. When Gavin glances back, he sees Chloe’s hand is wrapped tightly in the mesh pocket of Connor’s backpack. 

_ Up, up, and away. _

It’s not so much that it’s too steep to climb up, but that there is hardened ice under the snow, and it’s fucking cold. The wind blisters his face, turning his cheeks and his nose first cold then numb. His fingers feel like they’ve frozen into place around Connor’s. He’s imagining them all tumbling back down the hill, rolling up into a snowball that gets bigger and bigger and destroys the closest city like some kind of cartoon.

“Almost there,” he says, trying to force his feet to walk a little faster without tripping and falling. “Just a little while longer.”

Chloe muffles something behind them and Gavin twinges with the slightest bit of guilt. He should’ve warned them, but even more, Chloe told him before they got on the plane that she doesn’t like flying. She slept through the whole flight, but she kept leaning against one of them while they waited for their car, her face pale and her eyebrows drawn together in pain. He’ll have to ask his mom for something. She always gets sick on flights, too, and she carries a pharmacy of drugs to help her with it.

They reach the flattened out top of the path after maybe thirty minutes of walking. It’s a straight stretch to the lodge, which looks just as Gavin remembers it. Wooden logs making up the exterior, large windows, trees clustered around the place tightly. The porch is dark oak planks with a swinging bench on one side, a cluster of wicker chairs around a glass table that’s been covered in snow. On one of the trees out front is a tire swing, hanging empty and unused. He used to ask his dad to push him on it until he got high enough to leap off and fall in a pile of snow. He broke his arm that way one year and they weren’t allowed to use it again after.

Gavin is about to turn around and joke that they made it without anything more than a few moments of skidding on ice when Connor yanks him back and down into the snow. Gavin’s knee hits the frozen ground hard and he lets out a small, pained noise.

He lets go of Connor’s hand, stumbling back onto his feet. He looks down at Connor, then up at Chloe who has seemed to save herself by letting go and not being taken down with them. Her hand is over her mouth, either in shock or in trying to suppress a laugh. Connor, who is laying on his back, staring up at the sky with a blank expression, finally cracks. He laughs. Chloe laughs. Gavin stares at them.

“What the hell happened?”

“Chloe took me down.”

“I did not!” she says. “I started to slip and Connor caught my fall.”

“Funny how I’m the one on the ground and you aren’t,” he replies.

“That’s why I said  _ you  _ caught my fall.”

Gavin is flabbergasted. Completely confused by the way the two of them are laughing like this is the funniest thing that could have happened in their lives. Connor has his hands to his eyes, brushing away tears. There’s a moment in Gavin that makes his stupid little heart grow a little fonder for how Connor and Chloe are so happy right now, but they’re also acting like absolute children.

“It’s not that funny!” Gavin says. And it isn’t! He doesn’t get it. Not in the least, and it seems to only make the pair laugh louder. Great. They’ve truly lost it.

Gavin steps forward, holding a hand out to Connor. “Come on, Con.”

Connor’s laughter subsides a little, in the way that laughter trails off into small little laughs that aren’t quite ready to stop yet. When he takes Gavin’s hand, he doesn’t do anything to help get up. He’s dead weight, in fact, pulls Gavin down into the snow beside him again, which restarts Connor laughing again.

Gavin grabs a handful of snow and tosses it at Connor’s face. “You’re stupid.”

He brushes the snow aside, still laughing. “So are you.”

“You’re both stupid,” Chloe replies.

“You think you’re exempt from this?” Gavin asks. He’s grabbing up a handful of snow again, packing it tight into a ball. “Because I’ll fucking show you who’s stupid.”

“You already have,” she replies, but she’s watching him, glancing back up at the lodge still thirty-yards away.

Gavin isn’t faster than her. He has shit aim and the first snowball misses her as she takes off. The second one hits the steps on the porch as she stumbles up into safety, somehow managing the entire run without slipping again.

He pushes himself up to his feet, looking back to Connor who has seemed to finally start to become normal again.

“You ready this time?”

“Mhm,” he says. He takes Gavin’s hand, letting Gavin pull him up. They retrieve their suitcases from the snow, making their way up the path. Chloe is leaning against the wall, catching her breath.

  
  


Gavin knocks twice before opening the door to the lodge and stepping inside. The warmth envelops them quickly, along with the scent of gingerbread and vanilla. Inside the lodge looks like a cozy cabin. A fireplace to the right, a tree to the left (bare, aside from the Christmas lights wrapped around it, shining bright green, blue, and red in the dim space). The place isn't decorated to be Christmas-y, but it doesn't need to. It feels like the perfect place to be.

"Tina?" Gavin calls. "Are you here?"

He's answered by the sound of feet on ground, running along quickly. The culprits arrive at the top of the staircase above them. Two children and a dog.

"Uncle Vinny!" One screams, barreling ahead with the dog in tow. The younger one hangs back, following quietly after.

Gavin leans down, picking up the kid before she collides against Gavin’s legs, lifting him up as she squeals. Connor looks to Chloe who is looking away. At her hands, then her phone. The dog brushes up against Connor, asking for attention, sniffing his jacket. He leans down, petting his little head, checking the tag on the collar. Peanut. A little beagle.

"You've gotten so big," Gavin says, setting her down. "How the hell did you get so tall?"

"Mama said you shouldn't swear."

"Mama isn't here," he replies. He pulls a quarter from his pocket. "Our secret?"

She takes the quarter, holding it close to her face for inspection. "Our secret."

Gavin smiles and turns to the two of them. "Ellie, this is Connor and Chloe."

"Hello," she says, holding her hand out to Connor. A very distinguished girl, with pigtail braids and a fuzzy green dress designed to look like a Christmas tree.

"Nice to meet you," Connor replies, taking her hand. She shakes it wildly, then repeats it with Chloe. Connor looks to the little boy hiding back by the staircase. "And your brother?"

"Topher. He's quiet," Ellie takes a step forward, lowering her voice. "He doesn't like strangers but if he does talk, just don't treat it like it's a shock. You'll make him uncomfortable."

Connor nods and looks to Gavin, who has moved to pet the dog with him.

"His name is Peanut," Ellie says. "He likes the snow."

It is hard not to smile. There is something very soft and sweet about the way Ellie talks. Very matter-of-fact in everything she says. She can't be older than eight, but she acts as though she knows the secrets to the universe and Connor full heartedly agrees that she does.

"Where's your mom?" Gavin asks.

"Kitchen. She's making cider."

“Okay. Thanks,” he looks over to Topher on the stairs as Ellie moves to leave, dog following close behind. “Merry Christmas, Toph.”

The little boy nods and clutches the teddy bear tighter, following his sister back to the safety of the upstairs bedrooms.

They leave their bags by the stairs, Chloe trailing after Connor, Connor trailing after Gavin. The two hang back as they reach the entrance to the kitchen. A large thing with an island and step stools, a table tucked back against a large bay window decorated with a small Christmas tree in the center, bowls of candy and a cup of candy canes on either side of it.

The girl is leaning against the counter, reading something on her phone. An array of cookbooks and printed pages lie behind her. A stockpot on the stove sits boiling. The kitchen smells like cinnamon and apples, reminding Connor of last month on Thanksgiving when him and Gavin tried to make apple pie. It had turned out terrible. The filling was good, but the crust was impossible to flatten out properly.

Connor assumes the girl is Tina, but he doesn’t know who the guy is. He’s not Elijah. Connor’s seen pictures of Elijah at Gavin’s place, peering over his shoulder at Gavin’s phone, teasing him about their similarities. But Gavin is ecstatic to see him, walking further into the room and reaching out to do a handshake with the typical  _ hey dude _ that makes Connor internally cringe.

He never had that kind of laid back friendship. He never really had any friendships at all. It was strictly business in his family growing up. Gavin and Hank are the closest to friends that he has, and he was barely thirty-one when he met them. Not the  _ hey dude  _ type.

“Who’re they?” the guy asks, gesturing over to Chloe and Connor standing awkwardly in the doorway. At least they have each other in this endeavor.

“Connor and Chloe,” Gavin says, pointing toward them. “This is Chris.”

“Please, continue to ignore I’m here,” the girl says. “I know how little I matter to you.”

“And Tina,” Gavin says, narrowing his eyes at her. “Don’t mind her. Chris is my friend from high school. He’s very happy to be here. Aren’t you, Chris?”

“Technically I’m Tina’s friend,” he says. “Not yours. You’re only allowed to invite one person and you invited two, so she has to claim me.”

“Connor doesn’t count. He’s my boyfriend.”

Connor feels his face flush, butterflies light up in his chest. He will never tire of hearing Gavin refer to him as such. The first time Gavin said it, Connor hid his face in his hands to try and keep himself from making some kind of strange laughing noise.

“I still get to claim Chris as my plus one,” Tina says. “It doesn’t change anything.”

“‘Course not. When is Eli getting here?”

“Tomorrow morning. He’s flying in with your parents,” she says. “Did you say hello to the kids yet?”

“Yeah. First thing I did. I missed them the most.”

Tina smiles in the way that is polite but unhappy, “You wouldn’t miss them so much if you visited more often, asshole.”

“Remind me why I would if you’re going to be around.”

Tina steps over to him, hitting him on the shoulder. By Gavin’s expression, it wasn’t a particularly soft blow, either.

“If we’re just going to be bullying here, I’m leaving,” Gavin replies.

“Good,” Tina says. Chris is doing a poor job at hiding his smile behind his palm.

Gavin moves back to their sides, taking Connor’s hand as they leave, mumbling something to himself about ungrateful siblings.

“Is that Tina’s husband?” Connor asks, picking his suitcase off the floor.

“No. Family friend,” he says. “Tina got divorced a few years back.”

“And the kid’s dad doesn’t want to see them around Christmas?” Chloe asks.

“Nope. Guess not.” Gavin replies. He doesn’t actually know enough about the situation to comment on it. Tina got divorced three years ago. They haven’t spoken about it. “Come on. I’ll show you to our rooms.”

  
  


Chloe’s room is right next to theirs, and she gets hers to herself. A single bed in a cramped space with a bathroom connecting to Gavin’s and Connor’s room. There’s a quilt on the bed that Gavin’s grandmother made when he was little. Elijah always made sure it was here. Gavin reaches out and touches it softly. He wonders how it got here. If Tina packed it and unfurled it on one of the guest beds. She always liked to go from room to room and ready them for whoever was staying.

In Gavin and Connor’s room, there’s a little box of peppermints inside. The soft kind that melts away in his mouth. He used to love these. He still does. His mother gets a room on the first floor so she doesn’t stress her bad leg, and there’s always a little bag of chocolate-almonds with it. Elijah gets the room by the office, since he is always working, even in the middle of nowhere with poor reception, and there’s a basket of granola bars so Eli doesn’t forget to eat while he’s locked away. Tina’s kids share the room with the bunk bed and the chest of toys that she always fills up. It’s her ritual. Chris’ is setting up the tree with Elijah, but apparently had to do it alone this year, or maybe with the kids.

Gavin’s is taking a bath. Getting here, stripping down, soaking in hot water until Tina or Chris is banging on the door telling him dinner is ready. When he was a kid, he filled the tub with bubbles and took out his old toys and used the faucet as a diving board. As an adult, he just liked to warm back up and be away from having to participate in conversations with people that already had their shit together. Tina’s husband wasn’t bad to talk to, but Ed was rather selfish, always wanting to talk about Gavin getting a job at his business, like Gavin could ever pull off a suit.

He turns around to face Connor, to tell him he’s going to leave, when he sees Connor has stripped down to nothing, laying his pants over the back of a chair tucked underneath the small desk in the corner.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Connor says, looking back to him, then down. “Oh. Right. My clothes were soaked from falling down. I needed to change.”

“And you plan on putting clothes back on?”

“I think it would be the polite thing to do when I’m visiting your relatives.”

“Smart ass,” Gavin says. He moves over to him, hand on his waist, tugging him closer. “I meant—”

“No,” Connor interrupts him. “Not right now.”

“Okay,” he says. He leans up, presses a kiss against Connor’s jawline. “Do you want to take a bath with me? Warm back up?”

“Do you have bubbles?”

“Of course I do.”

  
  


It smells like cotton candy and the water is green around them, sparkling in the spaces where the bubbles have dissipated. Gavin leans against one edge, splashing water towards Connor’s side. The bath here is so much bigger than the one in Gavin’s apartment. The bathroom Connor has at his place with Markus is nicely sized, too, but it’s the only one there with a tub, and Markus is always dyeing fabric and leaving it there to soak overnight. 

This is one of the few places they have found to be vulnerable with each other. Water connecting the two like they are different ends of a river. Long nights equate to quiet morning showers. Gavin leaning against his back, half-asleep. They spend it scrubbing away bad dreams and bad memories, their touches gentle and reassuring that yes, they are there, even if they don’t feel like they are. Bubble baths are for making jokes, teasing each other, finding ways to laugh and smile that they would never do in the company of others.

In the summer they visited the beach and floated out far from the shore together, holding onto each other’s floaties with rope looped through holes and Gavin told Connor that he’s afraid sometimes of falling asleep and not waking up again for years and years. Afraid that he will lose out on his life and never find his way back again. It is hard to reassure someone of something like that. It’s hard to know for sure what the right thing to say is. There have been nights that Gavin wakes him up thrashing or his phone rings and it’s him, asking to hear Connor’s voice.

If Gavin slipped into another coma, would Connor be by his side the entire time? Would he wait? Would he pull the plug? Could he ever truly move on?

He doesn’t know. He tries not to think about it. Lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice, right?

Gavin moves closer to him, displacing the water, sending some over the edge and sitting on Connor’s lap, holding his face carefully.

“What are you doing?” Connor asks.

“Water is getting cold. I need you to keep me warm.”

“Mhm,” he says. He brings up a hand of suds, placing them carefully on Gavin’s nose. He looks like a clown. “You didn’t tell me about Chris. Or Tina’s divorce. Or the kids.”

“I know.”

“Why not?”

Gavin shrugs. “Makes it hard to justify why I left all those years ago and didn’t come back. I haven’t seen my niece or my nephew in five years. Just a video call once a year, maybe. And Chris…. haven’t called him since….”

The way he trails off makes Connor wonder if he remembers or is too ashamed to say it. Falling away from his family sounds like Gavin’s worst nightmare. For Connor, it was freeing. For Gavin, it was the end of everything.

“They worry. My parents, I mean. After I woke up they were divorced and they spent all of their energy watching over me like I might die again,” he says quietly. “And Tina… she had already moved on. She was getting married and she was only nineteen. Chris was in college. Elijah had started his own business. Life moved on and they wanted me around but it felt like…”

“Like three years had passed for them and nothing for you.”

Gavin smiles. Sweet. Soft. Sad.

“Yeah.”

“You know you can trust me, right?” Connor whispers, leaning forward to press the words against his neck.

“It’s not about me not trusting you,” he says. “I don’t want you to change your opinion of me.”

“Why would I?”

Gavin squirms underneath Connor’s grip. “You… lost your brother. You would give anything to be able to talk to him and see him, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“So what do you think of someone like me, that dodges my family’s phone calls? That doesn’t visit them? That doesn’t appreciate them while they’re here and alive?”

Connor stills, resting his head against Gavin’s shoulder. Yes. Gavin has a point. And put so bluntly, it hurts. Niles is dead. Connor barely spoke to him for ten years. They grew up estranged and in constant competition for their parent’s affection. But it’s different. It’s so completely and utterly different.

But Gavin is right.

Connor didn’t appreciate Niles while he was alive.

“That’s not how I see it,” he says. “And you’re right. The water is cold. We should get out.”

“Con—”

He’s pushing Gavin off his lap, retreating from the bath and finding one of the fluffy towels to wrap around his waist.

“I’m sorry,” Gavin says. “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine,” he replies. “I’m fine.”

“You aren’t. Come here. Come back to me.”

He leans against the counter, looking at the sink drain. Shiny gold. Perfectly clean. The granite countertop is dark shades of brown and neat white. Marbled together with streaks of bronze separating them. He focuses on the colors, the pattern. There’s a slosh of water behind him, dripping on tile. Wet arms wrap around him, pinning his arms to his sides.

“I’m sorry,” Gavin whispers again. “I know you loved Niles. I wasn’t trying to say you didn’t.”

“I did,” he says, his voice cracking in its effort to sound normal.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “Really—”

“It’s okay. _ Really.” _

Gavin’s arms squeeze tighter around him. Another, quieter version of  _ you’re not _ . And he isn’t. Sometimes Niles’ death hits him all over again. How preventable it was. How much Connor could’ve tried to reach out and help him. But he hadn’t. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be over this, either. Niles is a part of him. Niles dying is like part of himself being cut off, no matter how estranged they were.

So he lets Gavin hold him tight. He lets Gavin’s warmth radiate around him. Soft kisses against his shoulder, a caress across his stomach. They stay like that until Connor feels a little more stable, a little less damaged, but damaged still. He turns and kisses Gavin on the forehead, running his hand through his wet hair.

“I love you.”

Gavin smiles up at him, “I love you, too.”

It’s not really the first time they’ve said it. A year ago, Gavin told Connor he was in love with him or falling in love with him, and Connor couldn’t say the same back. He was in a terrible place. He didn’t know how he felt. And they were words that were hard to say. He grew up not knowing if he was allowed to love a man, and even after he could say the words once, it didn’t mean it was like a dam breaking. It didn’t mean he was suddenly capable of saying it whenever he wanted to.

And Gavin is similar. Much cooler, much calmer, about the concept of love. But not entirely firm-footed on the subject. It is a rare thing, but Connor doesn’t want it to be rare. Not when he never told his brother he loved him, not when his parents never said the words to him.

They could lose everything.

“I love you,” he repeats. Again and again, moving forward to kiss Gavin. Forehead, cheek, chin, neck. Kissing him and touching him and listening to Gavin laugh as he says it back just as many times.

They stumble their way to the bedroom, Gavin falling against the bed, tugging on Connor’s towel, pulling him closer. Rough palms against the curve of Connor’s spine, soft lips pressed against the slope of his neck. They need to stop. Connor doesn’t want to do this here, now. Everyone is awake. This is a lodge where Gavin’s family stays. It’s weird. Too close for comfort.

He pulls back slowly, his head fuzzy. “Gavin…”

“Yeah?”

“I…” he trails off. “What you said before.”

“About Niles?”

“Yes. You said it was wrong of you not to appreciate them while they were alive. You can still do that. You can still love your family and the people around you.”

“That’s why I’m here.”

“I know. But it’s more than just Christmas, you know that, right? It’s more than just being here for this trip,” Connor says. “You can fix it. You can still be their son and their brother and their friend.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “Con, I don’t want you to think I’m like… using your trauma as a teaching tool.”

“I know. It’s okay,” he says. He wants to make a joke that Gavin should. That at least his trauma would be worth something if it taught Gavin to be with his family, but he can’t quite manage it. “I just don’t want you to lose them. There’s no going back if you lose them.”

“Con, I…” he’s sitting up, trailing off. Words stuck on his tongue. He’s looking at Connor the same way he looked at him when he first fully said the words I love you on their third date. Scared, expectant. “I—”

There’s a knock on the door. Tina’s voice loud through the wood. “Dinner’s ready. Hurry up.”

He waits for the retreat of footsteps, then leans a little closer, whispering like this is a secret, “What were you going to say?”

“Nothing. Just that I’m glad I met you.”

  
  


There’s a box sitting in the bottom of his suitcase. Shoved between three other presents, though this one isn’t really a gift. It’s a question. It’s a question that leads into another question that involves a ring and suits and vows.

They sit around the table and they laugh and they eat and the dog begs and Gavin watches Connor trying his best to get along with Chris and Tina. Unsteady, but trying. Laughing at their jokes, but uneasily so, like he isn’t sure if he’s allowed. And Gavin wonders if he asked Connor to move in, would he say yes? Because there are words tied to that question. Do they get a new place? Does Connor come to live in his apartment when Markus’ place is so much nicer? And there’s a future after the fact. Marriage and kids. That would be the inevitable end, wouldn’t it? Does Connor want that?

Does Gavin?

It’s something he gave up on when he was twenty-three. When he felt like his life was starting to come to an end already. If he hadn’t found the one, he surely would never. The older he gets, the more he questions if there’s enough time to ever know if somebody is the right person to spend the rest of their lives together. He wants someone to grow old with, yes. But what if he makes the wrong choice? What if they get stuck half-way and start to hate each other because it’s too hard to start again?

That’s why he gave up. He was young, but he wasn’t young enough. And then he met Connor, and he feels this thing ticking like a clock in the back of his head, telling him that he’s running out of time. He hasn’t done anything with his life. He hasn’t done enough. He has a job he likes, but not his passion. He has a shitty apartment he hates. He lives in a city that makes him yearn for a quiet country-side. Nothing in his life is really right or good besides Connor.

And when he smiles like that, when he laughs, when he is sitting at a dinner table surrounded by people that are making him happy, even though they’re strangers, Gavin thinks  _ yes, this is the one. _

Connor is absolutely the one.

And Gavin does want all of that.


	2. all the snow

Gavin’s parents arrive with Elijah at seven in the morning. Quiet and sneaky, not waking anyone around them. Connor is already awake though, a mug of coffee in his hands, sitting in the library by the window that overlooks the front of the house. It’s still dark outside, though the sun has finally decided to start rising. Connor glances up only on occasion from his book just to watch the snow fall.

His parents owned a nice house in the middle of nowhere, but it wasn’t quite like this. It didn’t feel warm and inviting. Everything was hard edges, bright white or deep black. Cold. Sharp.

Connor could sit in this library and read the entire trip if Gavin would let him, but he knows he won’t. It has deep oak shelves and an elegant rug of blues and golds laid out on the floor. Big cushioned sofas the color of liquid gold with fuzzy blankets thrown over them and too many pillows crowded against the back. He could just stand here and take in all the details, but when he spots the people coming up the drive, he closes the book after quietly marking the page number in his head, slipping away back down the hall to his room. He doesn’t want to meet Gavin’s parents without Gavin there as some kind of buffer. He doesn't quite know what to expect. The things he heard from Gavin makes him worry that they might be even half as bad as his own parents.

His creeps across the upstairs quietly, closing the door behind him carefully as he makes his way back to the bed, crawling in beside Gavin. He’s like a heater. Always on, always warm. He doesn’t wake to Connor returning to his side, which gives Connor plenty of time to look down at his sleeping face.

Peaceful. Completely different from the angry person he met when he first started working at Hank’s shop. It’s not like Connor thinks people should continually give second chances, but he wonders how many people wrote Gavin off after their first impressions of his brute exterior and never got to learn the soft, mushy, idiot that can never crack a good joke. 

Connor would’ve been one of them, if he didn’t have to work beside him. He would’ve been one of them still, maybe, if he never asked Gavin to pretend to be his boyfriend a year ago.

Look how far they’ve come.

Look how lucky Connor is.

  
  


Connor is asleep when Gavin wakes up to the sound of knocking on the door. He sits up slowly, retreating from the bed at a snail’s pace, giving the intruder time to change their mind and leave. It’s barely after nine. Connor stirs beside him and he tucks the blanket back around his body.

“Don’t wake up,” he whispers, like a warning. Connor makes some small noise in response, turning his face back to the pillows to hide it from the bright light of the sun streaming through their window.

Gavin moves to the door, pausing for a second before getting pants off the ground, stumbling towards the door as he ties the drawstrings. The door opens to reveal his brother, a box in his hand. White and red striped, like candy-canes.

“Good morning,” Elijah says.

“Oh, fuck off,” he says, moving to close the door again. Eli catches it, smiling back at him, glancing to the bed behind him. “When did you get here?”

“Couple of hours ago.”

“And you didn’t go back to bed?”

“London time.”

“Right. Little prissy business boy.”

Elijah offers a polite smile, “Mom and dad don’t want to be part of the snowball fight today.”

“You woke me up for that?”

“I woke you up to warn you about it. They haven’t participated in the last few years. Topher and Ellie have taken their places. Also, it's ten in the morning. You should be up already."

“Topher’s, like, three years old.”

“Six,” Elijah says, narrowing his eyes at him. “And you have an hour to get ready for it.”

“A fucking  _ hour?”  _ Gavin sighs, drawing his hands over his face. “Isn’t that a bit soon?”

“Everyone’s awake but our parents.”

“Right. At least we won’t have to hear them argue for a little while.”

Elijah shrugs. “They’ve gotten a lot better in the last few years. They get along again.”

“Why’d you fly with them, then?”

“I said they’ve gotten better. They’re not perfect. When they fight, it’s still like war,” he replies. He holds the box out for him. “This is for your boy toy.”

“Don’t call him that.”

“Well, you never told me his name.”

“Connor.”

“And the girl you brought?”

“None of your business,” Gavin says, moving to close the door again. “Because you’re gonna keep your fucking distance, right?”

“Right,” he says, putting his hands up in surrender, stepping away from the door. “Good to see you, Vinny.”

Gavin makes a noise of agreement, shutting the door behind him. Connor is sitting up, looking over at him with his head tilted to the side.

“What?” Gavin asks.

“That’s the second time someone’s called you Vinny.”

“And it’ll be the fucking last if I have any say in it.”

  
  


Elijah has given Connor a pair of gloves. It’s strange to receive a present from a stranger he’s never conversed with. He stayed pretending he was asleep during their entire conversation. Easier this way, Connor thinks. He doesn’t want to meet someone for the first time while he’s sitting in a bed barely awake. He hadn’t even meant to fall back asleep again. But he’s up now, slipping on the gloves Elijah gave him—the thick kind with waterproof layers that make it hard to use his fingers but will do a better job protecting from the cold chill of snow.

They’re waiting for Tina, who is coming down the steps quickly, two kids bundled up with such thick coats that it seems like it should be impossible that they can move their arms and feet at all. The dog, Peanut, is right on their tail. Little fuzzy socks pulled over his feet and a shiny blue jacket over his light brown fur.

“Okay,” Tina says. “Let’s pick teams. There’s eight of us so… four teams of two?”

“We always did three teams,” Gavin says.

“That was before the kids were old enough to play,” Tina says, hands in her pockets. “And you invited two more people. We have plenty for four.”

“And who’s the team leaders?”

Tina glances around the group, “Me, Chris, Eli, and… Ellie.”

“How the fuck do you figure?”

“Language,” Chris mutters.

“Ellie’s the oldest kid and the rest of us were actually here a year ago.”

“I was in another coma. Forgive me.”

“Shut up,” Tina says. “Youngest picks first so… Ellie?”

“Uncle Vinny,” she says, not looking up from where she sits crouched, adjusting the collar on the dog.

“You’re the next youngest, Tina.”

She smiles, like she’s proud of this. “Chloe? We girls could stick together.”

“Okay,” she says. She moves to Tina’s side.

“Chris?”

Connor looks over to Gavin, who is mouthing something so dramatically and over-emphasized nobody would actually be able to understand what he’s saying.

Not that it matters, because when Connor looks back to Chris, he looks like he’s up to no good. “I’ll take Topher.”

“That leaves Connor with Elijah.”

“Asshole,” Gavin mutters.

“I was going to pick him anyway,” Elijah says, stepping over to Connor’s side. “Together the two of us must know all of Gavin’s weaknesses.”

“He’s hardly the competition,” Tina says, then claps her hands together. “Alright. Ten minutes to make bases and ammo. No going past the first curve in the path down, no going over the river to the east or up the hill to the west. There’s a shed to the north, just don’t go past that.”

“Any other rules?” Connor asks.

“Just basic decency. No rocks in snowballs, no physical violence. Go easy on the kids. Kids get five lives, adults get three.”

“Do the kids include Gavin?” Chris asks.

“You ask that every year and it’s never funny,” Gavin says, narrowing his eyes.

“Chloe’s smiling,” he says, gesturing to her.

“You know what?” Gavin says, puffing up his chest all-dramatic like, but Connor knows that tone of voice. The one that’s barely holding back a laugh. “I’ll fucking take you down.”

“Okay, shut up,” Tina says. “Is everyone ready?”

“Guess so,” Elijah says, shrugging.

“Ten minutes,” she says, glancing at her watch. “Starts… now.”

They take off. Chloe and Connor both hesitate for a second before following after their partner. Connor doesn’t pay attention to anyone else, just watches Eli’s back as he makes his way into the trees. He weaves in and around, coming to a stop when they get towards the game’s limits. The water is frozen over, barely three feet wide. Hardly a river. Maybe a joke from when they were younger?

“Gavin is going to go out by the shed,” Elijah says, kneeling down to start making snowballs. “He always does. The stuff inside of it isn’t off limits and he always gets a sled and loads it up. Probably pull Ellie around on the back and use her like a cannon.”

Connor hesitates for a moment before kneeling down beside him, helping collect snowballs. Elijah stops, fishing a crocheted market bag from his pocket and filling it up.

“Tina climbs trees,” Eli continues. “Chris is more unpredictable. One year we didn’t find him until nearly an hour in and he had built this cool fort with Gavin. They annihilated us. Never lost a single life. Unbelievable play.”

“What do you think he’ll do with Topher, then?”

“Maybe steal a page from Tina’s playbook. Topher likes to climb, too.”

“And us?”

“We,” Elijah says, standing up. “We stay on the move. Walk around enough that all the foot prints get muddled up.”

“How often have you won?”

Elijah stops and looks to him, “Uh… I plead the fifth?”

  
  


Three lives is not a lot when he is trying his hardest to take all the hits for Ellie, he knows that before the match even starts. And yeah, he’s annoyed that he didn’t get paired with Connor (or Chloe, for that matter), but he also loves his niece and he’s going to do everything in his power to make sure she wins. She deserves it a lot more than Eli does.

Maybe he shouldn’t be relying on his usual plan, then, but he does regardless of whether or not he uses it every year. Straight to the shed, one sled out, rope wrapped around his waist. Ellie on the back, ready to defend.

Let’s fucking go.

  
  


They take it far more seriously than Connor thought they would, and far more seriously than Connor cares to take it, either. Yes, they’re laughing, but there is also murder in their eyes. Elijah and Connor are constantly moving, which puts them in the path of Tina and Chloe.

Connor is hit in the shoulder, alerting them to their presence. Elijah manages to hit Tina back before they take off for cover. They miss most of their throws. So busy trying to take down the girls that they don’t hear Chris creeping up on them until Elijah is hit in the back of the head. 

Tina’s the one to hit Topher. Three times in a row which results in the only time Connor has heard him speak, a loud  _ MOM  _ drawn out like a song and only responded to with a loud laugh from the other side of the trees.

It’s a blur of snowballs. He hears Gavin’s laughing but he never actually sees him. Chris is yelling that him and Topher are out and when Connor peers around the tree, Chloe is following with them in their escape back to the house.

He throws another snowball, hitting Tina. She yelps, dropping the one she’s holding and raises her hands as she steps out into the open.

“I’m out, I’m out!”

It doesn’t stop Gavin from throwing another snowball out towards her. She pauses and looks over their way. Connor follows her gaze, realizing Gavin and Ellie are a few yards away, hiding behind a few trees. If Connor can see them, they can certainly see him.

“We have to go,” Connor says, picking up the bag.

Tina is yelling at them, and the distraction will only last so long. Connor takes off without waiting for Elijah to respond, sprinting through the trees with Elijah close behind. He hears a loud thud, the stumble of footsteps slowing down. He turns around, pausing. Elijah is on his knees, looking up at him with his hand on his chest.

“They’ve got me, Connor,” he says in a raspy voice. “I’m dead. This is the end. Save yourself.”

“Okay.”

Elijah lets out a pained laugh. Connor is running again, but he can hear Elijah calling after him. “ _ Really? Just like that!” _

Maybe it’s because he’s laughing, but his legs don’t want to hold him up anymore. He can hear Gavin behind him, calling his name.

“Slow down! I won’t hurt you.”

“Liar,” he yells back. He looks back just once, but the moment he does he’s tripping on something, falling hard to the ground.

Gavin is behind him, rolling him over onto his back, straddling him with a snowball raised high.

“I’m sorry I have to do this to you,” he says. “But it’s for the greater good.”

“The greater good?” Connor asks. “Why not let the guest win?”

“It’s not about you, it’s about Eli and Ellie,” Gavin replies. “Ellie has to win and Eli won’t shut up about it if he does.”

“You should make my death swift, if you love me.”

Gavin smiles and leans down, placing a quick kiss against the bridge of his nose. Then he drops the snowball and—

And it’s all over.

Connor is dead.

  
  


When they come back, everyone is crowded around the fireplace. Holiday themed episodes of cartoons are playing on the television above it. His parents must’ve woken up at some point while they were gone. An array of mugs filled with cider, hot chocolate, and coffee are pressed into cold hands.

“Who won?” Tina asks, looking over to them.

Gavin pulls his coat off, hanging it on the rack, “Ellie did.”

“Oh, congratulations!” she says. Her face lights up, making room on the couch for Ellie to come sit beside her. “Gavin’s not as rusty as we thought.”

“She did all the work,” he replies. He glances over to his parents. “Hi."

“Good to see you, Gavin,” his mother says, continuing her embroidery work. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah.”

“And who’s the boy?”

Gavin’s face feels hot and looks over to Connor. He reaches out and takes his hand tentatively. This is the first time he’s ever had a significant other meet his parents. Not only because he's never really had one,, but he never properly came out. Not really. About ten years ago he got in a fight with them and told them about the teacher. The look on their faces was enough to tell him that was a mistake. Maybe they're better now.

“Connor,” he says. “My boyfriend. He works at Sumo’s with me.”

“The soap place?” his father says. “You still work there?”

“Yep.”

“You enjoy it?”

“Yeah.”

“Because of Connor?”

Gavin laughs, awkward and forced. “Sometimes, yeah.”

“So long as you're happy,” his mother adds quietly. He doesn't really believe her, regardless. She pauses and looks up at him finally. “Do you two want anything to drink? It was awfully cold out there.”

“I think we’re going to go change,” Gavin says, tugging Connor away from the couches a little. “We’ll be back in a little bit.”

“He doesn’t want you to get Connor alone and tell him embarrassing stories,” Tina says.

“Elijah told me plenty while we were out.”

Gavin looks over to Eli, “You didn’t.”

“I saved the worst for last,” Elijah says. There’s a way about his face—Gavin always thought he was just a brat that liked to play pranks on him, but now he sees it. Elijah is quite incapable of not causing trouble in his life. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell them when you’re around.”

“Come on,” Gavin says quietly to him.

“No, I wanna hear the stories,” Connor says, but he lets Gavin tug him along to the stairs.

“I already embarrass myself enough around you, do you really need to trudge up old shit I can barely remember?”

Connor laughs as they turn the corner, hidden in the hallway. Gavin pushes him against the wall, leaning up and kissing him. He’s been wanting to do that for the last two hours. Capture his smile and fold it away, keep it somewhere safe and memorable. He’ll never get tired of it. He’ll never lose it.

“You should know,” Connor says quietly. “That if I already know what an idiot you are and I still love you, this wouldn’t change anything.”

“I can’t be so sure.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Gavin.”

“Good. I’m not letting you.”

  
  


They can’t all fit around the table in the kitchen, but Chris and Elijah, along with Gavin’s parents, have decided to sit out this activity and work on a jigsaw puzzle in the living room. When Connor walked by, he saw it was the kind with glitter glued to the pieces to make the snow reflective. It was stuck to their fingertips, dusted across the table. Elijah was helping wipe away some that had found its way across Chris' features like freckles.

There is a kind of surprise with Gavin’s family that Connor hadn't anticipated before. His parents are polite, his brother isn't the biggest jerk in the world. He thought they would be worse. They aren't even a semblance of what he thought they would be. It doesn't mean they're good people. Bad people can put on quite a front.

And, regardless of whether or not Gavin’s parents are nice and actually fun to talk to, he doesn’t want to ditch Chloe. Though lately she seems to be holding her own just fine. Gavin was right last year when he told Chloe she was like his sister. Chloe is quieter, calmer, more reserved, but she has the same loud laugh as Tina, has the same penchant for teasing Gavin until he gets that cute angry expression on his face.

They sit around the table, their own glitter tubes set around. Glue and paper and sticky foam sheets. Gavin keeps stealing the scissors as he tries his hardest to cut out perfect circles to glue to the plastic ornament to make his penguin’s eyes.

Topher cuts up folded up white snowflakes, littering the table with tiny scraps that Tina keeps stuffing into her empty ornament, making it look like snow behind the snowman’s face. Gavin’s made a Santa out of felt and popsicle sticks, adding glitter to his beard and his hat.

“It’s snow,” he says simply, shaking the glitter off onto the table. He leans down, blows it across the surface towards Connor.

“Stop!” he says with a laugh, pushing it back towards his side, but it sticks to his fingers instead and he leans forward, brushing it through Gavin’s hair.

It’s a mess. Everything is an absolute mess. But he can’t help but laugh and wonder what would happen if him and Niles had done this at home. Even if they had promised to clean it up, his parents would have yelled at them. His aunt never would’ve allowed it. His uncle, maybe. His uncle was much softer, sweeter, but he was still capable of the same kind of cruelty as his parents. If they made ornaments or decorations for any holiday, it would’ve been the kind they printed off and cut out. It would’ve been a ten minute thing before everything was wiped down, swept away. They would’ve been thrown into the trash within the week.

His parents didn’t keep memories, but here…

Gavin’s family doesn’t even own the place but they still brought a bucket of ornaments from Christmas’ past. There are banners strung up across doorways that look like they’ve been folded up and undone a dozen times already. The sweaters Tina wears are handmade and the mug that Elijah drinks his coffee from looks like it’s from a kid’s art class.

Gavin left all of this for his own reasons. Connor doesn’t blame him for that. But he also can’t imagine wanting anything else other than this.

  
  


“Do you want me to help?”

“No, I got this,” Ellie says, stepping up the ladder. Gavin steps over, holding it in place as she climbs to the top.

The tree is fake. A hundred different parts. The middle rod is five separate pieces, the little branches each individual things that needed to be snapped into place. Chris loves doing it. He probably spent the first day here putting it together with the kid’s help. When Gavin was younger, he liked to sort them out. They each have little stickers around the ends. Colored brightly with faded letters throughout the alphabet. Sometimes Gavin wonders with the way Chris and Tina travel together if he’s the reason she got divorced a few years ago. If they’re just waiting to say something.

Would it be weird for Gavin to see them date? He’s known them as friends since the middle of high school. Far after. Honestly, the least surprising thing that could’ve happened after Gavin woke up was to find that Chris was Tina’s husband, not some fucking low-life Ed that works at his daddy’s bank.

“Ready?” Gavin asks.

“Gimme,” she says, stretching her little hands out towards him. He hands her the star. Bright gold. Just a little too small for the height of the tree.

She leans over, setting it on the top, plugging it into the end of the lights. It clicks on, filling the space with a warm glow. The final touch. Her prize for winning the snowball fight.

Technically, Gavin is supposed to have one, too, but he always opts to not put the tree away. It feels too sad, too final. He likes to leave just before everything is taken down. Preserve that memory. And, really, it was mainly to run away from the arguments between his family. His parents didn’t get along very well before. It was one of the reasons he didn’t like to come back. Though if his parents had any idea as to why he liked to run, it was because Gavin is lazy.

He was the only one that didn’t succeed. Not to them. For Gavin every year he was alive and had some kind of happiness was succeeding. But for his parents, he went off to Detroit and got a job at a soap shop that hasn’t become a world-wide famous chain, so clearly, he’s doing poorly.

Tina isn’t even really their daughter—she’s a childhood friend that spent so much time at their house that it started out as a joke to them. Her parents had passed when she was really young and she lived with her aunt, who was never around. She never told him what happened, not in any great detail, anyway. She wasn’t close to her aunt and her aunt couldn’t afford to be close to her. Financially or emotionally. So before, yeah, she was just a family friend that Gavin called his sister. His parents joked along with it but Gavin knew they didn’t really consider her family. She wasn’t set to the same expectations as him. And when he woke up, everything had changed. She was married. She lived a few hours away, going to college alongside her husband and searching for houses on the weekend.

His parents were divorced, living in tiny apartments on opposite sides of town. And Elijah—

Well.

Maybe he didn’t get married like Tina. Maybe he isn’t a dad. But he still succeeded. He’s paid well enough he could probably buy this lodge and keep it just for them if he really wanted. He doesn’t need to reach the “dad” or the “husband” stages of life that his parents and society have placed upon an individual to be done with the milestones of their life. He has a business and riches. He’s smart and driven. None of that shit applies to Elijah. And it doesn’t apply to Chris either. He’s a family friend. He doesn’t have expectations on him the way Gavin does. Maybe he arrived in their life in the middle of high school and has stuck around, but it’s not like his parents would ever see him and think “son” the way they see Tina and think “daughter”.

And he thinks if him and Connor hadn’t worked out, even after seeing the way Connor’s family treated him, the loss of a sibling, he wouldn’t have come here. He came solely because of Connor. He wanted them to meet him. He wanted them to see that he was finally on the right track. Or maybe that isn’t true, because the night before he asked Connor to come with him, he tried not to cry at the thought of seeing his family again and make shit right with them, whatever the fuck that means.

It isn’t like Gavin agrees that he needs to be married and have kids to be successful in life, but they are things he wants. 

He looks over at Connor, holding Topher up high. Topher slaps one of his snowflakes against the wall, letting it stick with a few others. A blizzard of them interspersed between paintings of forest-y landscapes. He’s never seen Topher grow so accustomed to a stranger before. He isn’t talking, but he isn’t hiding his smile or his laughter. He isn’t hiding behind Tina like a shadow.

“Vinny?”

Gavin looks away back to Elijah, who has one of the last few ornaments to stick on the tree hanging on his hand. An old gingerbread man they made in school when they were younger, before Elijah started skipping grades like stones on a lake.  _ GAVIN  _ is scrawled across the back in jagged letters. “What?”

“Can I ask you something?” he says quietly. “A little personal?”

“I guess.”

“How did you get to be friends with Chloe and Connor?” he asks. “They’re… good people. Funny. Attractive, even.”

“Back off, Eli.”

“No, I’m serious. Chloe seems to have her shit together and Connor could genuinely go places. How’d you worm your way into their lives?” Eli asks. He leans forward against the ladder between them and Gavin catches it. The scent of alcohol on his breath. Plenty to be drunk, knowing him. The problem is, Gavin knows that Eli walks a very thin line between the kind and funny drunk and the cruel one. “You haven’t even been around in five years and it’s like you think you can bring them with you and show that you’re all better now and happy but you aren’t.”

“Go away,” he says quietly. He doesn’t like being around Eli when he’s like this. It’s not just that he’s horrible, it’s that he reminds Gavin of all the times he’s been horrible. Drinking away on Christmas morning because he remembers their old fights and the name-calling.

“They must really pity you,” he says with a laugh. “I wouldn’t be surprised if in a month Connor breaks your weak little heart and moves on. Wonder if that would be the last straw for you.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Gavin whispers.

“Fine, fine,” he mumbles, shoving the ornament into Gavin’s palm. “But this up, will you?”

“Walk away,  _ will you?” _

Elijah scoffs. It’s enough for Gavin to know he’s not going to walk away or let this go. He’s clinging on. Pushing Gavin’s shoulder.

“Why are you such a jerk?” Eli asks. “I come over to hang out with my estranged brother and you shrug me off.”

“You’re being an ass and you’re making it my fault?”

“‘Course I am. It’s lonely in London. You never call or text or write. You piss me off. I’ve got all this pent up anger because of your sorry ass.”

“Go punch a wall, then,” Gavin says. He adjusts the ornament. Keeps messing with it like he needs it just perfect and not an excuse to do something with his hands. “I’m not playing games with you. Not tonight. Not this trip.”

“You know, I always wondered something. Do you ever wish you never woke up, Vinny?” he asks. “Sometimes I do.”

  
  


He hears the glass shatter first, not the punch, but Connor knows how to connect the dots. He sets Topher back on the ground, turning towards the tree. Gavin holding his hand, stepping away but not leaving the scene of the crime. Elijah on the ground, a few broken ornaments around them.

“Gavin?” he says, because that’s all he can manage to say.

Gavin looks over to him, and it isn’t a sudden crack of guilt or regret across his face. It’s already there, but the anger melts away. Then he leaves. Like he’s sprinting away. Scared deer running up the staircase back to their room. Chris is helping Eli up off the ground. Hand to his face, brushing blood away from his nose.

“Come on,” Tina says quietly, ushering the kids back to the television.  _ Don’t look, don’t look. _

Connor leaves, following Gavin’s path back up the stairs. He finds him on the bed, holding his hand, eyes closed but tear tracks still staining his cheeks.

“Gav?”

“Go away, Con.”

“You didn’t lock the door,” he says, closing it behind him. “If you didn’t want me here you should’ve barricaded me out.”

“Hand hurts too much,” Gavin mutters. “Can you lock it?”

“I don’t think anyone else—”

“My mom will come and yell at me in a few minutes. Just buy me some time, okay?”

Connor nods, turning to click the lock closed. He crosses over to the bathroom, pulling a hand towel from the rack and one of the empty plastic bags for the trash. He locks the door after he leaves, opening one of the windows and pushing the snow into the bag. He ties it shut, wraps the towel around it and comes back to Gavin’s side, taking his hand and pressing the ice-pack against it.

“Did you break anything?”

“Don’t think so. Just hurts,” he says. “Ice feels good.”

Connor nods. He waits in the silence for a long time, trying to give Gavin a chance to explain himself, but he stays quiet.

“Gav—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“This isn’t one of those moments you get to just not talk about it,” Connor says quietly. It isn’t one of their late nights that Gavin wakes up, unable to sleep, holding onto him, asking Connor to reassure him that he’s alive. This involved someone else. This involved violence.

“I was thinking about having kids,” Gavin says quietly. “I was happy.”

“What happened?”

“Eli was Eli.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“It means sometimes brothers are pieces of shit to each other. We aren’t like whatever you and Niles had. When we talked, it was arguing and it wasn’t about competitive bullshit.”

Connor swallows back his words. Gavin is upset. He doesn’t mean what he’s saying. And he can tell that by Gavin’s expression he didn’t mean it how it sounded. His uninjured hand reaches out, placed on top of Connor’s holding the icepack against his knuckles.

“I’m sorry. I just… sometimes it’s hard being around him. And he’s been drinking and—”

“And he wasn’t the one that threw a punch,” Connor says quietly.

“He said he wished I never woke up,” Gavin says with a shrug. “He basically said he wishes I was dead and I didn’t deserve you, which I don’t, but… it’s different thinking it and being told.”

“You think you don’t deserve me?”

He shakes his head. The ice is melting out of the bed, spilling through the towel. Cold water against skin.

“You can’t put me on that kind of pedestal, Gav,” he whispers. “Love isn’t about deserving someone.”

He doesn’t reply, but he flexes his fingers. His skin is red and angry. He’ll likely have bruises there tomorrow. How hard did he punch Elijah?

“Do you want kids?” Gavin asks.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Connor replies. “I hardly think that’s—”

“I just want to know. Please.”

“I—I don’t know,” he says. “Sometimes I do, sometimes I’m… scared I’ll mess them up.”

“I think you’d be a good dad.”

Connor smiles weakly, “You didn’t have to hit him because of it.”

“I know,” he whispers. “Are you mad at me?”

He shrugs a little. He is, but he isn’t. He understands, but it doesn’t make it okay. Understanding something is not excusing it. Connor takes his good hand, holds it tight.

“Are you going to…” he trails off.

“What?”

“Break up with me?” he chokes out. “I mean, I wouldn’t blame you. I know violence… that kind of fucked up family… I wouldn’t blame you.”

“You made a bad decision,” Connor whispers, leaning forward to kiss him lightly on the top of his head. “You’re still a good man.”

“Don’t put me on a pedestal,” he jokes.

Connor squeezes his hand, “You have to apologize to him.”

“I know,” he says. “I will. Just let me stay here for a little longer.”

  
  


He’s gone.

Elijah is gone. Along with both of Gavin’s parents and Chris. Chloe and Tina are sitting around the kitchen table, quietly talking over cups of hot cocoa.

“Where’d they go?” Gavin asks.

Chloe looks up at him and glances away.

“The hospital,” Tina says, taking a sip from her mug. “Eli’s convinced his nose is broken.”

“And the kids?”

“It’s late. I put them to bed.”

“I’m sorry,” he offers. “They shouldn’t have seen that. I shouldn’t have done it.”

“I know,” she says. “You should tell them that.”

“You… want me to talk to them?”

“In the morning. Tell them people shouldn’t hit people under any circumstances.”

“Well…”

“No ‘well’,” Tina says, not looking up. “Got it?”

“Got it.”

  
  


He stays up, sitting in the living room with the jigsaw puzzle, messing with pieces of the sky. Tina and Chloe went to bed a while ago. Connor came down long enough to kiss him goodnight. But he stays.

He stays until they come back. He doesn’t hear them. Just sees the flashlight sweep across the dim living room. He gets up, feeling the sudden need to run. He hides behind the door to the kitchen as they come up the steps. Feet stomping on the floor. Snow cracking away from their boots.

“…look like a fucking loser,” he hears Eli say.

“I think you look cute,” Chris replies. “I mean, for once in your life. Maybe it’s because half your face is covered.”

“I’m injured. Don’t make fun of me.”

“You should get some sleep,” his mother interjects. “Take some pills and go to bed.”

“It’s really not that bed,” his father adds. “You do always brag about your pain tolerance.”

“Not if it gets him attention,” his mother replies. He hears them laugh. All of them, minus Eli.

“I’m going to eat something first. I don’t want to take it on an empty stomach.”

“Okay. Good night, Ellie.”

“Yeah, good night Ellie,” Chris says, his voice light. Teasing, but no harm behind his words.

Gavin moves quietly, further back into the kitchen until he hits the doorway that leads up to the second floor. He ducks behind it, glancing up the spiral staircase. It drops off right in front of Chris’ room, but Chris never goes this way.

Or—

He usually doesn’t.

But he can still hear them talking. Chris and Eli as they head into the kitchen.

“…really think it makes me look cute?” Eli asks.

“It’s not hard.”

“Hm?”

“I said ‘it snowed hard’,” Chris replies. “You have—uh—you have snow in your hair.”

“No you said it’s not hard. You think I’m cute, don’t you?”

Gavin’s going to throw up back here.

“That’s ridiculous. You look in the mirror a hundred times a day, you should know how stupid you look. Especially the way you do your hair. It’s like you're trying to look like a dick.”

“Chris?”

“What?” he says, his voice angry.

“I think you’re cute, too.”

_ Jesus fucking Christ. _

Is this what him and Connor sound like?

For a moment Gavin thought Eli had sobered up and now he isn't so sure.

“Well—” Chris stumbles over his words. “Maybe I’d kiss you but your nose is all messed up and I’d probably hurt you.”

“Probably. But you could try.”

Apologizing to Elijah isn’t worth it anymore. Gavin should leave. But it’s strange, listening to them like this. He knew Chris liked boys. They met in their school’s GSA. But there’s a difference between knowing and seeing it. Chris has had a dozen girlfriends in the last twenty years and not a single boyfriend.

And Eli?

Eli’s always been quiet about who he dates, but he’d think Elijah would jump at the chance to be the gay kid his parents would love to have. Going to Pride and wearing the pins. They wouldn’t do that for Gavin. He’s not the picture-perfect gay son they’d love him to be. They fucking hate him for who he is.

He wishes he was, though. Perfect for them in some way.

He wishes he could bite his tongue when people would say something to him. He wishes he didn’t let himself get manipulated by an older man. He wishes he didn’t get in that car and think of himself so highly that he almost died.

He peeks through the crack in the door. Curious and nauseous at how long they’ve been quiet. They’re still standing yards apart. Separated by the island counter. It’s the first time Gavin’s seen Elijah’s face.

And really, by the sound of their conversation, he’d think it would be a lot worse but Eli only has a few bandages across his nose and a wicked bruise forming across his face. It’s hardly the full nose-cast they were acting like it was.

Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt like a bitch, though, and Eli isn't known for keeping his mouth shut when he gets even the slightest bit of pain in his life.

“Probably should stop making jokes like that,” Chris says quietly.

“You started it.”

“Did I?” he tilts his head. “Could’ve sworn it was all you.”

“Chris…" Eli steps forward. “Do you really… just want to keep pretending?”

“Yeah,” he says, turning away quickly to the stairs where Gavin hides. “I do.”

Elijah leaves out the other door, eyes to the ground as he runs off. The light overhead clicks off. Before Gavin’s eyes can adjust and he realizes he needs to make an escape, the door opens and Chris walks straight into him.

“What the hell?” he says, stumbling back. A phone screen ticks on, the bright light blinding Gavin. “Vin?”

Gavin lifts a hand up, shielding himself from the light. “What?”

“What do you  _ mean  _ ‘what”?” Chris says, pushing him lightly. “Why are you hiding back here?”

“Well, you and Eli were having a moment. I didn’t want to intrude.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“So you saw that.”

“Yeah. I for one think you should’ve kissed him.”

“Shut up,” he says, brushing past him. “What do you know about El?”

“He’s my brother.”

“Your brother you haven’t seen for five years and barely spoke to for the past fifteen.”

Gavin shrugs, looking up to Chris as he starts his ascent up the stairs. “I came to say I was sorry.”

“To me?”

“To him, dipshit.”

Chris sighs and stops on the stairs, turning back to him. “Really think he deserves it?”

“Excuse me?” Gavin asks. “He’s your lover. Shouldn’t you be on his side?”

“Don’t…” he says, holding up a hand. “Don’t call him that. It’s weird.”

“What are you two then?”

“Look,” Chris says, taking a step back down to him. “We aren’t anything. We’re friends. We make flirty jokes. It’s all in fun.”

“Me and Connor make those jokes, too.”

“Yeah, well, you two are allowed to be together.”

“And you two aren’t?”

“Connor’s your friend, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And what would you do if you broke up with him? Stay friends? Keep in touch? Pretend you would do those things but run the other way?” Chris asks. “If you didn’t realize what you might lose by asking for more, fine. But if I lose El, I lose Tina. I lose hanging out with the kids. I would’ve lost you if I still—”

“If you still considered us friends?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry, Chris.”

“Doesn’t matter anymore,” Chris replies. “Get some sleep, okay? Tell Eli in the morning you’re sorry if you really want to. He’ll be a lot more sober then.”

  
  


He didn’t think of it. He didn’t think that if he lost Connor he’d lose him forever. Not just that they would be incapable of being together romantically, but that everything would be over with. 

He can’t be friends with Connor. Not after all of this. It’s different when they didn’t have anything and he could just hide his feelings. But being together? If there’s a possibility of an after? All Gavin would think about is the times they were together and happy.

He isn’t good with breakups. He’s definitely not good with them when it’s someone like Connor. Someone good and better than him. Even if he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, it doesn’t mean he wants it too.

  
  


He hears the door open, jolting him out of his half-asleep state. Connor lifts the blanket automatically, making room for Gavin to climb in beside him.

“You talk to him?”

“Tomorrow. I promise.”

“Gav—”

“I promise,” he says, moving closer against him. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

“Con?” he whispers, kissing the crook of his neck. “I love you.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I just love you.”

“Gavin,” he says quietly, wrapping his arms tightly around him. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Gavin replies. “Go to sleep.”


	3. the christmas lights

The steam pools out of the bathroom as he steps back into their bedroom. Chloe woke up before either of them, as evidence by the note written on the fogged up mirror that said  _ two more days until Christmas! _ . It’s gone now, wiped away from Gavin’s hand when he went to brush his teeth. Time is moving too slow and too fast. Christmas already. The end of another year. But still how many more days before the next year starts? He’s itching for January just to help mark the start of something new.

He leans against the doorway, towel wrapped around his waist, messing with his Spotify to close out before an ad starts playing.

“Hot,” Connor says.

He smiles as he looks up, but it fades when he catches Connor’s expression.

“You’re teasing me.”

“Always am.”

“You know you could have a piece of this if you wanted,” he says.

“You think I’m not aware?” Connor laughs. “Get dressed. Tina came by while you were in the shower. We’re supposed to go ice skating today.”

“Fuck,” he mumbles. “You’re going to look like such a damn fool.”

Connor shrugs. He’s as aware as Gavin is that regardless of how similar ice skating and ballet might look on the surface, they require an entirely different set of skills.

He still hasn’t seen him dance, though. Connor likes his privacy with it. He always disappears early in the morning when Gavin is staying at his place. Comes back damp with sweat and pulls Gavin out of bed to shower with him. He’s caught glimpses, sure, maybe even spied for longer than he should’ve, but he knows dancing is something Connor likes to keep to himself after it was exploited of him for so long.

And it isn’t as though Connor dances all the time, either. There are times he doesn’t. Long stretches where Connor doesn’t dance at all. But he wonders if he’s itching to do it now. There’s space, but the only room on the first floor is Gavin’s mom’s and while he doubts she would wake up to the noise, Connor isn’t the type of person to risk it.

“You should talk to Elijah before we go,” Connor says.

“Right. I forgot about that.”

Connor shakes his head. “Don’t believe that in the slightest.”

Maybe not. Maybe Gavin spent his entire time in the shower wishing that the lodge would collectively erase it from their memories. And when that seemed like it wasn’t going to happen, he tried to rehearse words. Some way to apologize while also demanding an apology in return, too. He leans his head back.  _ Fuck.  _ He did forget that he promised Tina he’d talk to Ellie and Topher, though.

“I’ll meet you downstairs in a little bit, okay?”

“Okay,” Connor says. He stands up, moving over to Gavin. Hand on his side, kissing him lightly. “I love you.”

“You just like me for my body.”

Connor laughs. “Yes, well, your upper body strength does come in handy quite often.”

  
  


He knocks lightly on the bedroom door, assuming that the early morning, the plans for their day, and the hospital trip last night would mean Elijah isn’t in the office, typing away at emails and files.

“Who’s there?”

“Vinny,” he says, opting for his nickname in hopes it makes things a little bit lighter. Nobody calls him Vinny but his family. Nobody calls him Gav but Connor. His parents are the only ones that still call Elijah “Ellie” after Tina named her daughter after him and the nickname stuck on her instead.

But--

He’s pretty sure the only person that calls Elijah “El” is Chris, though.

“The fuck do you want?”

“To talk.”

There’s footsteps on the other side. The door opens, Elijah on the other side. His hair down, a burgundy robe tied around his waist. He looks horrible. Half his face is a bruise. It’s a lot worse than it looked last night.

“Come to say sorry?” Elijah asks.

“Yeah.”

“Connor make you do that?”

Gavin shrugs. “It’s the right thing to do.”

“That wasn’t an answer,” Eli says. “But I guess that means I should apologize, too.”

He shrugs again. They stand in silence for a long moment before Eli finally motions for him to come inside. The door closes. They sit opposite of each other on the messy bed. Comforter all tangled up between them. Pillows missing their pillowcases. Eli is still a restless sleeper, then.

He didn’t used to be. When they were growing up, Eli and Gav were both such heavy sleepers they missed class more often than not. It didn’t affect Eli’s grades, but it affected Gavin’s. Maybe the beginning of a catalyst for teacher-student study sessions.

Either way--

Last time he was here, he remembers listening to Tina asking Eli if he brought his meds. Things that would help him sleep. Dull his dreams so that there weren’t anymore nightmares.

He remembers Tina asking him if it had gotten any better, after all this time. He never found out what caused them. Something that happened when he was taking his three year nap.

“Look, last night I was drunk,” Elijah says finally. “I know that doesn’t excuse it, but… It’s why I was acting like that. I get… stupid when I’m drunk.”

“I know, I’m not stupid,” he replies. “But neither were you. You weren’t being stupid. You were being an asshole.”

“Yeah,” he whispers. “I’m—It’s… difficult. When you went into your coma, nobody thought you would wake up. You know mom had to deal with all this shit from parents at school? She’d still go to PTA meetings for Tina and other parents would tell her to unplug you. That she was being selfish for keeping you alive. I would get messages online that I should try and sue mom and dad to do it. Let you go finally. Not to dwell on it.”

“What does this have to do with last night?”

“You know full well what it has to do with last night.”

Gavin looks away from him, stares at the whorls in the wooden panels on the wall. “You said you didn’t want me to wake up.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t mean it,” Eli says. “All I ever wanted was for you to wake up. All this shit would happen and I’d want to talk to you. I got in a fight with Tina and I would save these drafts in my phone of messages to send you, even though I knew you would take her side.”

“Why the fuck would you say that shit then?” he asks. “Why would you tell me that you wanted me dead?”

“I didn’t mean it about you, Gav. I meant it about me.”

“I don’t follow.”

Elijah shakes his head, hides his face in his hands. “Four years ago I took a bunch of pills, okay? It wasn’t enough to kill me. I went to the hospital. I was fine. They put me on suicide watch. I went to therapy.”

_ No.  _ No, no, no--

Even with the lack of details, it still hits Gavin hard. Square in the chest, like a hand pushing him back further to the edge of a cliff.

“You tried to kill yourself.”

“Yeah,” he says with a shrug, like it’s nothing. “I fell asleep. It was nice and foggy and scary how nice and foggy it was. And I woke up with a tube in my throat. They pumped my stomach. I was barely holding on. But I was fine.”

“You never told me.”

“The only person that knows is Chris,” he says. “I left him a voicemail and he came over to see if I was okay.”

“Eli—”

“I’m better now, Gav, I promise, and I’m not telling you this to make you worry about me, I just want you to know why I said what I said.”

He’s better now, but last night he told him he wished he never woke up. Two incongruent statements. He isn’t better. He’s lying. And he wants to ask Eli why.  _ Why  _ he would do something like that. Why he would leave them like that. Topher and Ellie love Elijah. He’s the successful one of the family. He’s the son that his parents both always wanted. Chris and Tina adore him. He has a stable job and he’s intelligent. He has everything in the world right at his feet.

But it doesn’t work like that. Gavin knows that. He just can’t reconcile that Elijah with his brother. Maybe that’s the problem, though. The Elijah that Gavin has in his head is an Elijah from when they were sixteen. Never aged, never changing.

“I’m not supposed to drink,” Eli says. “I’m not an addict but I’m supposed to avoid it. It’s just last night I forgot about…”

“About what?”

“Nothing,” he says and clears his throat. “Anyway, I forgive you, especially since I deserved it. That was a hell of a punch. Kind of impressive.”

“Thanks,” he says, deadpan. “But I shouldn’t have hit you, regardless of how much you deserved it.”

“Damn, Connor is rubbing off on you, isn’t he?” Elijah asks. “He’s good. He’s a good guy. I haven’t talked to him much, but he seems like he really loves you.”

“He does,” Gavin says. It’s the first time he’s managed to say that out loud. To admit that he knows Connor loves him without any caveats. “Chris seems like he loves you.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I was going to talk to you last night. I overheard you and Chris. I spoke to him about it.”

“You did what?”

“He loves you,” Gavin says quietly. “It’s really weird for me to say. I never thought you and him… I never thought  _ you—” _

“Think you have all the claim on the gay territory in this family?”

Gavin laughs, “No, but… I didn’t know. That’s all.”

Not all. He wants to tell Eli he wishes that they were close enough that Elijah could’ve told him this, but there’s already too much vulnerability right now. Any more heartfelt words between them and Gavin just might snap.

So they sit in the quiet for another minute. Elijah picks at the edge of the blanket in front of him. Picks up a pillow and fixes the case back onto it.

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want it to be a big thing. Coming out is… it’s so much.”

“Yeah.”

“That why you never did it, either?” Elijah asks. “Just joined the GSA at school and brought Connor home twenty years later?”

“Easier pretending things are that simple.”

Elijah nods. “What did Chris say? About us?”

“He doesn’t want to lose you.”

“Does anybody want to lose the person they love?”

“No,” Gavin says, smiling softly. “But sometimes the fear of that is enough to make you stay away from ever getting it.”

“Don’t blame him,” Eli says. “I’m not really worth the risk, am I?”

Gavin stands up, moving over to the door. “Fuck no. Chris deserves way better than your dumb ass.”

He moves quickly, blocking the pillow thrown at him with the door, listening to Eli laugh as he walks away.

“…and so you should never hit anyone. Ever.”

“Then why’d you hit uncle Eli?”

Gavin looks up to Tina. She shrugs and gestures back to the kids.

“It… it doesn’t matter,” he says, looking from Tina to Ellie. “Hitting people is wrong.”

“But  _ why—” _

“I think that’s enough questions,” Tina says. “Get dressed. We’re leaving in twenty minutes.”

“Is Uncle Vinny going?” Ellie asks. “Because he should be grounded. If he was grounded, he wouldn’t be allowed to go.”

“It’s part of the Christmas spirit,” Gavin says. “No grounding this close to Christmas.”

“Don’t tell them that,” Tina whispers under her breath.

_ Too late now. _

He gets up and leaves, running away before he can tell whether or not Topher and Ellie even really understand anything he said. Of course they’re old enough, but Ellie is also too old to be asking the kind of questions she had, too. She might be energetic and childish, but she knows without Gavin having to give her a lecture that hitting people is wrong.

“There you are,” his mother says from the bottom of the stairs. “Come down here.”

She’s holding something in her hand. Bright green. Knitted. His eyebrows draw together like he’s fourteen again being sent to highschool with handmade mittens. High school kids barely even wore coats to school in the dead of winter. It was part of what made them cool. No backpacks, no coats, and certainly no mittens.

“What is that?” he asks.

She hides it behind her back. “Nothing for you. Come down, now.”

He scans the room as he descends the steps. Nobody else around. No Connor, no Chloe, no Chris.

No witnesses and no way to get out of this.

“You’ve barely talked to me since I got here,” she says. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m busy, ma. There’s a lot of people here.”

“Mhm,” she says, narrowing her eyes at him. “You were a mama’s boy when you were a kid, do you remember that? You used to love sitting in the room with me no matter what. What happened to that?”

“Middle school.”

She’s quiet for a moment, “Okay. Look, I was going to give this to you but you acted like a twelve year-old last night so I want you to give it to that friend of yours.”

“Chloe?” he asks as she holds out the little green thing. It’s a hat. Knitted to look like a frog.

“Connor.”

Right. His  _ friend  _ Connor.

“He’ll love it,” Gavin says. And he knows Connor will. A lot more than Gavin would, though he’s grown out of the teenage mindset of being unable to like handmade things from his parents.

“Good. Now,” she says, taking a breath. “You and your gaggle of friends have made it so we can’t take just one car to the rink. How many people does your car seat?”

“Five, maybe—”

“Then you get to bring the dog.”

“The fuck does Peanut need to go ice skating for?” he asks.

“He has emotional attachment issues. He doesn’t like to be alone for long periods of time. It’s easier to bring him with than it is to clean up whatever mess he leaves behind.” His mother presses a leash into his other hand. “Go on. Oh, and take your father with you, too. You haven’t spent enough time with him, either.”

  
  


“It’s going to be hell,” Gavin says quietly, pulling the frog hat over Connor’s head. “But it’s better than my mom.”

“Did you tell her thanks?” Connor asks. “For the hat?”

“What? No,” he says. “But you do look cute in it.”

He smiles lightly and pulls Gavin’s hands away from where they tug on the braids that hang down from the sides. “She made you something.”

“And gave it away. To you. My  _ friend.” _

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Connor whispers. “It’s a lot better than how my parents would refer to you.”

“That’s not the point, Con. It’s not about whether she could be worse. It’s the fact she could be better.”

“You should tell her thank you, still.” Connor holds his face. Brushes his fingers across Gavin’s cheeks. “I love you.”

Gavin rolls his eyes. “I hate you. Trying to be such a good fucking influence all the time.  _ ‘Say your sorry!’ ‘Tell her thank you!’ _ You’re the worst.”

Connor laughs, silenced only by Gavin kissing the corner of his mouth and pulling away. He hears the distant sound of voices and looks up the slippery slope to the lodge. The rest of the group has made their way down finally. It’s a slow walk when everyone is chatting together. It’s easy to speed along when Gavin wanted to get Connor alone for a minute or two.

  
  


As it turns out, Gavin was right. It was a special kind of hell to travel with his father, but different (and yes, arguably better) than his mother. His mother is the type to chastise him. Ask him everything about his life and expect honest and brief answers while simultaneously arguing with him for not being more open. When he left five years ago, part of it was the overbearing nature of his mother. The way she needled him and constantly hovered. Her opinion on every part of her life is necessary in her eyes. His father was never like that. Always kept to himself unless he was watching football and wanted Gavin to comment on the bad calls made by the referee. In the car, though, his father decides to tell old war stories, but they’re all plots from movies made in the sixties that he pretends he lived. Gavin doesn’t even know if he actually served, and he doesn’t ask. When his dad runs out of stories, he starts going in depth of what it’s like making miniatures. He’s working on a civil war battle, and it’s unclear to Gavin if the concept comes from wanting the battle to end in a different way or if it’s just because his father treats war like fiction. His assistant—a boy named Daniel that he keeps calling Danny-boy—does almost all of the work.

“I’ve got no dexterity for that anymore,” he says with a laugh.

And while it may be true, Gavin’s father is not  _ that  _ old, but he acts like it. Comes with the territory of being a grandpa. Suddenly he’s eighty-nine instead of sixty-seven. And somehow his father is perfectly fine playing with his little miniatures but incapable of putting them back into place, like a child that doesn’t want to put their toys away but leaves them stranded across bedroom floors.

He falls asleep somewhere after he starts to detail the parts of his train set. Connor, Gavin, and Peanut are left in an awkward silence that Gavin is too afraid to fill with anything but the cheesy Christmas music on the station his father demanded they turn the radio to.

But Connor holds out his hand on the console and Gavin takes it, holding onto it for the little comfort he can manage in the last ten minutes of their drive to the ice rink.

  
  


“Have you ever skated before?” Gavin asks.

“No,” he says. “Well—technically yes. When I was ten. It was the only time I went on a school field trip.”

“Were you any good?”

“I have remarkable balance with ballet.”

“And ice skating?”

“Not so much,” he says with a laugh. “What about you?”

“Always been absolute shit at it,” Gavin says, then glances over his shoulder. Safely out of earshot of the little kids, who have swarmed around their grandparents with the dog. Tina is occupied with helping Chloe make her way to the rink. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Do you think you’ll stay working at Sumo’s with me and Hank?”

“For a little while. Why?”

“You had all these big dreams when you were younger. Opera singer, professional dancer, pianist—”

“Those were my parents dreams,” Connor says. “Not mine.”

“But you still sing. You still dance. You still play.”

Connor shrugs, tying his laces a little tighter. “I still enjoy it but it isn’t what I want to do.”

“And soap-making is?”

“No,” he says quietly. “I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet. I’m still trying to find that out.”

“Any ideas yet?”

“I don’t know,” Connor says, sitting back up. “Maybe I will work at Sumo’s until the day I die. Maybe I’ll never find out. I’m not in a rush. Are you?”

“No—”

“And what do  _ you  _ want to do with your life?” Connor asks. “Become a dad? Stay at home and raise your kids?”

“I don’t know. I like working at Sumo’s.”

“So do I.”

“But what happens when you decide you don’t want to work there anymore? When you get a different job? Where are you going to live?”

Connor laughs, bewildered, “I don’t know. It depends on what I settle on. If it’s something in the city, I’ll probably live close by. I don’t plan on buying a house until I’m settling down, and I don’t know if I’ll ever settle down. I still don’t know if I’m going to have kids.”

“You’re fucking terrible at answering my questions.”

“Well, your questions are too big to be answered.”

  
  


Neither of them are good at skating. Tina and Chris are both incredible at it. They could’ve gone professional, if they really cared. Tina tows Chloe along behind her, and Chris tows Ellie and Topher in a line behind him. Eli is by himself, skating in circles with his gaze on the ground until Connor invites him into their little group, and despite Gavin’s want to have some of these memories of Christmas without his family, at least Eli helps them enough to actually move quicker than a snail’s pace around the rink.

Honestly, though, Gavin does feel a little sorry for him. Eli keeps looking at Chris on the other side of the rink the same way Gavin used to look at Connor before they got together.

It’s really sad.

Like, pathetically so.

Honestly, they really should just get it over with already. It’ll either work out or it won’t. And maybe Gavin is projecting a little bit here, but he knows that kind of love. It doesn’t go away. Dating other people isn’t going to make either of them move on. It’s just going to make them fuck over other people.

Eli eventually leaves them alone after his sadness seems to grow too big to be ignored, because he zooms around the rink at top speed, passing everyone up and earning a few yells from concerned parents.

“Is he alright?” Connor asks. “I thought you apologized to him.”

“Of course I fucking apologized to him. Why do you think he was coming anywhere near me?”

“Well, I assume he likes me more than he hates you,” he replies.

Connor is probably right about that, but Connor is a very likable person, even at his worst. It’s the only reason why he endured a painful three days with Connor’s family last year. If it was anyone else, he would’ve disappeared the first night. Yes, he would’ve felt guilty about it, but he still would’ve left.

“If I tell you something, you’ve got to keep your trap shut, yeah?”

Connor bumps his shoulder lightly, “You can trust me.”

“Him and Chris are… in love, I guess,” he says.

“They’re together?”

“No. Just in love. Very separate.”

Connor looks over at the two of them. “Oh. They seem… cute.”

“Don’t call my brother cute.”

“He looks enough like you that you should permit it as a compliment.”

“Well, I don’t,” Gavin says. “And even if they would be good together, it doesn’t matter. Chris is—”

“Chris is what?”

“Chris is his best friend,” he says, his voice straining with the words. He was Chris’ best friend once. It was him, Chris, and Tina. That was the trio. They were the ones that got along, the ones that laughed together and had inside jokes that made their stomachs hurt even two years later when they were brought up again.

A lot of things changed during his coma.

Elijah replacing him in his friend group was one of them. Before, he just minded his business and studied constantly. Always had his nose in a fucking book. He was even three years ahead of Gavin in school even though they’re a year apart. Tina told him that Eli spent every break from college classes he could to hang out with them.

Made him feel closer to Gavin.

Funny how Eli trying to feel closer to him pushed all of his other friends away. Funny how when Gavin woke up, he didn’t do anything to repair that damage.

It’s not like the ten years after he woke up were horrible. He still went on Christmas vacation with them. He ricocheted between his parents houses when he was recovering. But it wasn’t the same. They moved on, Gavin didn’t. It’s just that he gave up on trying five years ago, if he had ever even began to try at all.

It was different growing close to Ellie and Topher. They’re kids. He was there when they were born and went to almost all of their birthday parties in some capacity. The last five years it just happened to be video chats and phone calls. But there wasn’t any changing what happened when he was asleep. Tina had a husband that didn’t like Gavin hanging around. Elijah had his work. Chris was…

A boy that held grudges and had a family of his own. He only started spending Christmas with them after his father passed away and his mother moved to France to live with her sister. He just kind of fell into their family.

And Gavin isolated himself from his family until he could convince himself it was for the best that he never came back again.

“Gavin?”

“What?”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says quietly, and squeezes Connor’s hand. “Chloe seems to be getting along with Tina well.”

“Chloe gets along with anyone.”

“Yeah, but Tina…” he shrugs. “She’s protective of her kids. Anybody that gets close to her eventually gets close to Ellie and Topher.”

“Do you know why she and her husband got divorced?” Connor asks. “I know it’s not my business but—”

“She never told me.”

“Okay,” Connor says, dropping the topic fast. “Do you want to go get hot chocolate?”

“I’d love to.”

  
  


They have spoons made of peppermint and hot chocolate flavored with caramel. The two of them sit side by side in a little cafe beside the rink on the second floor, expertly avoiding Gavin’s parents already seated by the windows with Elijah and Topher.

Connor does like his parents, though. They’re comforting in some small way, albeit annoying in others. Yes, of course it bothers him that Gavin’s mom won’t call Connor a boyfriend, but rather a friend. And it is tedious listening to Gavin’s dad talk about war scenes like they’re all fun and games rather than a bloody reality. But they are so much better than Connor’s own parents that it’s hard to hold these things against them.

Gavin complains about them, poking at his food when a server comes by ten minutes later with grilled cheese sandwiches. There’s more to the story, maybe, but Gavin doesn’t add to it. He just lets it go.

It’s infuriating, the way he’s been acting. Terrifying, too. Kids and work and houses. If Gavin asks Connor to marry him, he can’t say yes. It’s too soon. He desperately doesn’t want Gavin to ask him that. He doesn’t know if Gavin is the type of person that can hear the word  _ no  _ and still stay by his side.

And he doesn’t want to lose him.

He’d really like to keep Gavin until he can say yes to a proposal.

  
  
  


It gets dark fast out here. The lights flicker on around the cafe and the rink just as they leave. They climb back into their cars, Peanut safely in the backseat by Gavin’s dad who falls asleep before they even back out of their parking space and head back onto the road.

They don’t go home yet. There’s still more of their day to be spent away from the lodge, and nobody wants to make the two hour drive out to the city again. So they drive to the opposite side of the city, stopping at an overly crowded street filled with booths, winter-themed carnival games, and far too many people. They pay their tickets, making their way into the Festival of Lights. Gavin is right at Connor’s side, leaning close to him and whispering quietly.

“This is just gonna be you and me, okay? Nobody else.”

“Okay,” he replies with a smile.

They dart off from the group immediately, leaving Gavin’s dad with the dog when they spot Tina’s van pull into the parking lot a few spaces away. They race through the festival until they get enough distance away that they can slow down and peruse the stalls set up.

There are people selling apple cider and eggnog and hot chocolate. Peppermint candies poured into Christmas and winter themed shapes. Little kits of cardboard to make gingerbread houses, hand-crafted needle felt charms shaped like bears and squirrels and deer. Gavin disappears from his side when Connor is looking at journals all displayed out for people to pick from.

Gavin got him one last year. He filled it up within a month, writing constantly because he had so much to get out of his head. He still writes. Gavin still buys him one whenever he sees that Connor’s getting towards the end of his. It shows up on his station at Sumo’s, wrapped with little Christmas wrapping paper regardless of the time of year.

“Hey,” Gavin says, jumping up behind him again. He has a box he’s tucking into a pocket inside his coat. “Are you getting one of these?”

“I thought about it.”

“Do you want to think about those for a second?” Gavin asks, nodding towards a stall selling elephant ears. “Just for a second?”

Connor rolls his eyes, then points to a journal that’s black and gold. “I like this one the best.”

“Got it.” He gives Connor a kiss on the cheek before he leaves him to his not-so-secret shopping.

  
  


They meet back up, sitting on benches outside a tent, breaking off pieces of their elephant ears. Connor doesn’t know what he’s going to get Gavin at all. He has something sitting inside his suitcase back at the lodge, but he wanted to get him something else, too. Something like this. Hand-made and special. Something that would make Gavin remember Connor when he thought about skipping Christmas next year. If he does. Maybe he won’t. Connor isn’t sure.

He doesn’t get much of a chance to look at anything on his own, though. Gavin is always right beside him, narrowing his eyes at everything on display like he’s putting it under a microscope. When they finish eating, they get in line to be let into the second half of the festival.

The whole place is set up for a charity event for the homeless shelter and families in need. One half of the festival is games and shops, the other are three different large tents set up for people to bid on. The first one displays gingerbread houses, each unique and beautiful. There are mansions and cabins and carefully assembled little men outside with shovels or snowmen made of marshmallows. They can place bids on the houses if they want to try and win them, but only Gavin does. A hefty three-hundred dollars placed on one resembling a small cottage along a river.

Connor stops at one of a house that reminds him of his own parents while Gavin is putting his official bid in. There’s a Santa gingerbread man on the roof with a little sleigh and reindeer. Rudolph has a small red crystal bead for the nose. It’s coat in glitter, shining off the Christmas lights looped through the tent poles above them.

Hank used to make gingerbread houses out of soap. He’d take pictures of them and put them on the website and auction them off. His proceeds would go to charity, too, but he stopped doing it once Connor and Gavin were hired. Neither of them know how to do it. Connor only even knew about it because he liked to read up on soap forums to figure out more about Sumo’s business. There’s quite a fanatical crowd.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Connor says quietly. But he’s looking at the house, trying to figure out why it’s making him feel this way. Sad in a way he doesn’t know how to place. It isn’t because Hank stopped making his. It isn’t because he never made them when he was a child. It’s—

It’s because, he thinks, it’s the first time he’s seen something in a while that he knows Niles would’ve loved. He used to draw pictures of buildings. Not modern office buildings, not sharp lines of hotel buildings, but fantastical things like this. Things that would exist in fairy tales or cartoons.

Niles would love gingerbread houses. Maybe he wouldn’t be good at building them, but he would love them still, wouldn’t he?

“I’ll meet back up with you in a little bit, okay?” Connor says.

“You’re ditching me?”

“I’ll meet you by the trees,” he says, and kisses Gavin lightly on the forehead. “I promise.”

He starts to move away before he’s stopped by Gavin’s hand on his arm, his eyebrows raised with expectation. “You’re supposed to tell me you love me before you leave me all by myself in a strange place.”

“Right. Well,” Connor shrugs. “I guess I love you, then.”

Gavin laughs, “Fine. I’ll accept that.”

  
  


He walks quickly back through the stalls again. Passes by the place selling cardboard kits for children, past the charms shop, past the journals. He saw some things he wanted to get. He hesitated before, but not now. Not anymore.

  
  


“There you are,” Tina says, plopping down on the bench beside Gavin. “I’ve barely seen you all day.”

“I’ve been with Connor.”

“Of course you have,” she says, rolling her eyes. “You don’t go anywhere without him.”

“That’s not true,” he says. “Where are your children?”

“With their grandparents and Peanut.”

“And what have you been up to?”

“Looking for you!” she says, hitting him lightly. “I needed your help with presents for Chloe and Connor. I think I’ve got something for Chlo, but Connor?”

_ Chlo? _

Nicknames now?

“Connor likes bookmarks,” Gavin says. “Doesn’t ever use them, but he likes collecting them. Markus got him a box to keep them in so they stop winding up all over his house.”

“Who’s Markus?”

“Roommate.”

“Ex?” Tina says, mischief in her eyes.

“God, no,” Gavin says. “Which reminds me… you never told me why you got divorced.”

Tina’s amusement falters and falls away. She sits up a little straighter, “You never asked.”

“I am now.”

“Are you?” she says, buying time. “Didn’t sound like a question.”

“Fine. Why did you get divorced?”

“Me and Ed didn’t fit.”

“No?”

She shakes her head. “No.”

“Tina…” he says quietly. “You know you can tell me, right? I know it has to be more than just you two not fitting. He doesn’t come around to see his kids.”

“Well, I’d blame him for that, but I’m sort of the bitch that started it all, aren’t I?” she says, shaking her head. Her eyes are on her hands, inspecting her nails like this is nothing important. “Stopped giving him what he wanted and he found someone else. Knocked up another girl. Married her less than a week after our divorce was finalized.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be,” she says. “It really is my fault.”

“It’s—”

“You don’t have to comfort me and tell me it’s not,” she says, looking up. “It is.”

“Fine,” he replies. “It’s your fault.”

“You’re not going to ask me how?”

“No. If you wanna tell me, go ahead,” he says, shrugging. “The fuck am I going to do? Beat it out of you?”

She nudges his shoulder. “When you were a teenager, you had yourself all figured out. I hated you for that. You and Chris just… fucking knew. And you never made a deal about it. I mean, Chris did. I still remember when he came out to me.”

“Tina?”

“But I didn’t know until I was sending Ellie off to preschool and I met her teacher. Which is stupid, but it was the first time I’d ever felt that. You know… how people are supposed to feel about their husbands? I just always thought… that it was like a deal. That I was just supposed to meet someone who would want the same things as me and it was like a contract.”

“Did you sleep with the preschool teacher?” he asks, because he really doesn’t know what else to say.

“Are you kidding me?” Tina says. “No. She was _ Ellie’s teacher. _ I thought I’d gone insane. And then I told Ed and he… didn’t take it well.”

“So you got divorced.”

“Yeah. And listen, I wouldn’t have minded him and his wife coming around for birthday parties or holidays. I would love it if Ellie and Topher could have their dad in their life. I wouldn’t even care if they had a stepmother that they loved to spend time with. But he called me a bad mother. He tried to take them away from me.”

“Tina—”

“It’s fine. He didn’t get them. His wife didn’t want them anyway. I think that’s the only reason he let it go,” she says. “But listen, Gav, I have a problem.”

“With… what?” he asks, suddenly apprehensive. He is scared to learn anything more about his family.

“I really like Chloe.”

“Oh,” he says quietly.

“Yeah,” she says. “Do you know if she’s—”

“She’s a widow,” he says suddenly, the words spilling out of him. It’s different from how he thought when Eli was going to make a move on Chloe. He thought about telling him just to keep him away. Not like Eli would stay away because Chloe was damaged goods or something, but that he would at least have the decency to let Chloe heal first.

But with Tina—

It’s like a warning. Not to keep her away, but not to get her hopes up.

“Oh.”

“It—It happened a few years ago. He was Connor’s brother,” Gavin says quietly. “That’s how I know her. And I don’t know if she likes girls but I know that she’s still grieving.”

“Okay,” she says. “That’s okay.”

Gavin nods.

_ Okay. _

  
  


They go through a small section of the festival that has decorated Christmas trees. The rest of the group meets up with them throughout it. They don’t stay for the auctioning of the trees and instead hitch a ride on a little truck-drawn carriage through a winding path of trees interspersed with light displays.

Penguins throwing snowballs. Elves climbing up trees to place ornaments. A Grinch with a beating heart. A Santa drinking milk. Topher and Ellie love it. So does Connor. Gavin watches the way his eyes light up like a kid’s when he sees the more elaborate displays.

He watches Chris and Eli exchange glances as they make their way along the path. He watches Chris place his hand over Eli’s and neither of them acknowledge it. He watches Tina stare at Chloe. He watches his parents laugh and point at funny displays. His father raises Topher up on his lap to see the reindeer running along a rooftop. Elijah makes a joke that one of the elves is taller than Gavin. Chloe points out at a nutcracker that looks like Connor.

It really is something, isn’t it?

Love, that is.

All existing in its dozens of forms in this tiny little cart.

**Author's Note:**

> happy holidays everyone ;-; i know this will be a little late after the season but i wanted to get as much of it written first as possible.


End file.
